


Turkish Delight

by spikesgirl58



Category: Man from Uncle - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-05
Updated: 2012-10-05
Packaged: 2017-11-15 16:52:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spikesgirl58/pseuds/spikesgirl58
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Illya's birthday and, for the first time, he's feeling old.  Napoleon is determined to make him feel better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turkish Delight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Aurora Bee](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Aurora+Bee).



“And you can open your eyes now, Illya.” 

Illya dropped his hands and opened one eye cautiously.  Even after years of association, he still could never quite predict what Napoleon was planning.

In front of him sat a cake, white and pink striped sides with a fluffy white top.  A few token candles danced in the breeze that Napoleon created as he moved back.

“It’s a cake.”  Illya twisted in the seat to look for Napoleon.  His partner was going through the cupboard.  “What are you looking for?”

“It’s a Turkish Delight cake.” Napoleon corrected. “Where do we keep the saucers?”

“How long have we been married?” Illya muttered, smiling wryly.  “Look in the top cupboard, right side, bottom shelf.”

“Fourteen years, but I remember the fate of the last person caught going through your kitchen.”  Napoleon found the plates and removed the top two.  “They are still finding bits of him.”

“I’m not that bad… am I?”  Illya watched as Napoleon returned to the table with plates and silverware in hand.

“Well, you **have** mellowed with age.” 

“If by mellowed, you mean grown fat and complacent, then, yes, I have mellowed.”  Illya patted his no longer flat stomach.  While the years had been kind for them, he woke this morning to a new sensation, that of feeling old.  He’d taken a moment to study his visage in the mirror, frowning at the wrinkles that furrowed his brow and the corners of his eyes. 

His still longish blond hair hid the gray well, better than Napoleon’s, but the silver was well established in the gold.  His body ached; his face showed his age, he was old.  That was all there was to it.

Suddenly, Illya realized Napoleon was speaking.  “You are still that skinny Soviet who climbed off that plane and into my heart.” 

“You are a wonderful flatterer, Napoleon.”

“Illya, I don’t know what you see when you look in the mirror –“

“The old man who has stolen my body and my thoughts.”

“But I still see you and only you.”  Napoleon brushed some of Illya’s hair back away from his face and tipped up his chin.  “I see you as a kind and considerate man, someone who always has had my back, no matter what.  I see someone I have shared nearly my entire life with and the person I hope will be by my side when this big old ride called life is over.  No matter how old you see yourself, how unkind, unlovable, or unflattering; I will always be at your side, telling you just the opposite.” Napoleon pointed.  “Now, make a wish and blow out your blobs of wax.”

Illya smiled tenderly and pulled Napoleon down into a kiss.  “I already did and it was granted many years ago by a cocky, too-handsome-for-his-own-good American.”

“Hmm, what’s his name and I’ll take care of him for you.”

“Never fear.  I have the matter well in hand.”

They never did get around to cutting the Turkish Delight cake that night.  They were far too busy with the delight of their love.


End file.
